


A Hogwarts Tradition

by ladyknightley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7822543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyknightley/pseuds/ladyknightley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teddy Lupin fancies Victoire Weasley. Victoire Weasley needs a tutor in Ancient Runes. Teddy Lupin thinks he could be just the man for the job. Tutors to lovers, it's practically a Hogwarts tradition. Nothing can go wrong. </p><p>Except for the minor problem of him never having taken an Ancient Runes class before...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hogwarts Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the anon who prompted this for Tedoire week of hpshipweeks. Please note one use of strong language in the middle!

“Uuurrrrggghhhhhhhhh!” Victoire’s banging her head rhythmically off the table and that’s great because it gives him the perfect excuse to go over and talk to her: “ _Just wanted to be sure you weren’t going to give yourself a concussion, because you know I am fully available to carry you up to the Hospital Wing but I would much rather carry you somewhere much more fun. Like my bed_!” Okay. Maybe not that. But something.

He’s still trying to work out what when, “Stop that, Vic. You’re getting your stress all over my Potions notes and it’s not helping.”

“I’m going to fail Ancient Runes,” she says mournfully, ignoring her friend’s comment.

“Don’t be stupid,” the friend says, and even from his position hiding behind the bookshelf (he’s not a stalker, he swears), Ted can hear her eye roll. “You’re the smartest person in the year. You’re not going to fail _anything_.”

“I am not the smartest person in the year, I just work hard,” she replies. “And no matter how hard I work at Ancient Runes, I just. Can’t. Get. It.”

“Okay, I take it back,” her friend says. “You are not the smartest person in the year; I am. Me and all the others of us who weren’t dumb enough to take the stupid subject in the first place. Here, have a Cauldron Cake. You look like you need cheering up.”

“Not as much as I’ll need cheering up when I _fail spectacularly_ ,” she sighs, but there’s a rustling of foil being unwrapped, so she clearly can’t be feeling _that_ bad. Annoyingly for Ted. He has a long list of ways he could cheer her up, and only twenty-seven of them involve food. 

“Look, there’s a simple solution here,” says the friend, her voice muffled by Cauldron Cake. “Just get yourself a tutor in the subject; stick a notice up in the Common Room and one of the NEWT students can help you. Simple.”

Ted has to restrain himself from running over and hugging Vic’s friend. Her idea is genius, and he can _certainly_ use it to his advantage. “Oh, that is a good idea,” says Victoire, voice brightening. “There’s still plenty of time before the exam so—”

“ _Are you two eating in the library_?” There’s no mistaking Madam Pince’s screech; even sheltered by the stacks, Ted finds himself shrinking back. Victoire and her friend flee, but the idea sticks in Ted’s mind. Become Victoire’s tutor, impress her with his amazing teaching skills, something something something, then they’re dating.

He’ll work on the finer points later.

*

Half an hour later, having acquired the books he needs, he leaves the library and almost runs straight into Victoire. “Oh, hey Ted!” she says. “Listen, can you do me a massive favour? I’ve left my Ancient Runes folder over on one of the desks by the Herbology section. Could you go and fetch it for me? I’d go myself, but there was an unfortunate incident with Madam Pince and some—”

“Cauldron Cakes, yes, I heard,” Ted says, nodding. “I mean, I wasn’t like, stalking you, or whatever. Or spying. I wouldn’t be following you around the castle. That would be weird. So I wasn’t doing it. Um.” He takes a step backwards, and crashes into a suit of armour.

“Watch it!” It barks at him. Victoire looks faintly amused. Or horrified. He can’t tell.

“I’ll just go and get that for you,” he says, dashing back off into the library. He only knocks over two chairs, which, in his flustered state, must be a new record. When he returns, he holds the folder out to her and takes his chance, as she’s thanking him for fetching it. “Look, I couldn’t help but overhearing earlier that you’re looking for a tutor in Ancient Runes.”

She groans. “It’s awful,” she says. “I’m only just about scraping an A, and I need to get at least an E, if not an O. At this stage, I’d be lucky to pass.”

“Well, I know just the person,” he says brightly. She raises an eyebrow questioningly. “Me!”

“Oh!” she says, sounding surprised. “Oh, well, yes, of course. Actually, that’d be great. It’s always really awkward, working with someone you don’t know, isn’t it? But we’ve known each other forever, so that’ll be fine. Unless,” she breaks off, worried. “I know you’re really busy with all your NEWT work. I don’t want to get in the way, or anything...”

“No no, it’s fine,” he says cheerfully. “I’m free most nights. Can you do Wednesday evening, in the Charms classroom?”

“Yes, that’s great. Seven o’clock? Great. Thank you so much, Teddy.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, her wide smile making his stomach flip over.

“Great! I’ll see you then.”

“Yes, see you then. That’s great!”

“Cool!”

“Fab!”

“Yeah...uh...Ted? Can you let go of my Ancient Runes folder now, please?”

*

“It’s a pretty solid plan,” says Carl, one of his roommates, when he explains it later. “With just one teeny-tiny, extra small, miniscule little flaw.”

“And that is?” he asks, practically bouncing on his bed.

“You’ve never taken an Ancient Runes class in your life before and now you’ve got two days to learn three years’ of the OWL syllabus.”

“I’m sure it’s doable.”

“...”

“People have done harder things. It’s not like I have to...I dunno, fight a dragon, or whatever.”

“You know, this would be a whole lot easier if you just asked her out.”

“I can’t do that; she just thinks of me as another of her thirty-seven million cousins, because they’re the only people she sees me with. If we have some one-on-one time, she’ll realise that—”

“You spend your days drooling over her?”

“ _No_ , that we’re totally compatible in every way and should start dating immediately.”

“O-kay.”

“It a totally flawless plan. Tutors to lovers, it’s practically a Hogwarts tradition.”

“Yeah, maybe,” says Carl. “But like I say: only when people have actually studied the subject they’re supposed to be helping other people learn. It’s no good leaning in close over the textbook if you can barely figure out which way up the textbook goes.”

“It is a slight drawback,” he agrees. “But—hey! You did Ancient Runes OWL, didn’t you?”

“Oh, no,” says Carl. “I am _not_ getting involved in this nonsense. You can have my old notes, but I draw the line at anything else. _Capisce_?”

“Thanks, mate,” Ted says gratefully. He’s starting to think that Carl might have a point.

“In fact...” His friend stands, waves his wand at his trunk, and a book flies into Ted’s hands. “Enjoy! I have to go to Quidditch practise now. I’m sure you’ll be an expert by the time I get back...” Ted turns over _Ancient Runes Made Easy_ , cracks open the front cover.

When Carl gets back from Quidditch practise, two and a half hours later, he still hasn’t made it past page two.

*

“Ah, Vic!” he beams. “You’re looking particularly lovely tonight.” He’s not flirting; he just figures that if he butters her up now, she’ll be less likely to kill him when she realises that he’s a total fraud. (And there’s always an outside chance that she’ll be so overcome by his compliments she’ll fall into his arms straight away, so maybe he _is_ flirting, just a little...)

Victoire laughs, sliding into the seat opposite him. “Thank you. I feel that the regulation grey skirt and white blouse really sets off my hair, you know?” She flicks her hair off her shoulder, and it falls in a mesmerising wave down her back. There’s a slightly-too-long pause whilst he works out what to say in response to this. “That was a joke,” she adds, and he laughs like he’s just been hit with the strongest possible tickling hex.

Now she just looks alarmed.

To cover his embarrassment, he accidentally-on-purpose knocks his quill off the table, and ducks down to retrieve it. So does she. They bump heads.

“SO!” he says, too loudly, when they resurface. “Ancient Runes!”

“Yes!” Victoire says, sounding relieved. “Ancient Runes. Ugh. Okay. I’m not _terrible_ at it. I sort of know what I’m doing, but it’s like...emphasis on sort of, right? I’m mostly getting As, but I want at least an E, and really an O.”

“An A is still a pass,” he points out.

“Yes, but I don’t like As. I like Os. It’s good to be the best,” she says calmly.

“O...kay.”

“Look,” Victoire says. “Whenever people look at me they see blonde hair, pretty face, big boobs...”

“Your life is _so_ hard,” he agrees, rolling his eyes, because it means he isn’t tempted to look at any of those things.

“It isn’t,” she nods. “I know that. But, Merlin, everyone assumes that I’m stupid because of the way I look, and I have to prove them wrong. I’m good at most of my subjects, but it’s like I have a block on Ancient Runes. It’s mostly theoretical, and I’m better at practical. But that doesn’t matter—what matters is passing this stupid OWL.”

“So you’re dropping it after this year?” he asks.

“Oh God yes,” she replies. “But I still don’t want to fail.”

“Of course not,” he says. “That’s why I’m here to help!” He says it in a cheesy voice, but she ignores this and thanks him profusely again.

“I didn’t even realise you took Ancient Runes!” she finishes.

“Uh. Not...as a NEWT class...”

“In that case, I’m so sorry to be putting you through this trauma again,” she says.

He coughs. “Shall we get started?” His voice breaks midway through.

“Absolutely!” Victoire smiles. She picks up a piece of parchment and a quill and leans in towards the desk. He gets a waft of her perfume, and he has to resist the temptation to pinch himself. He’s sat inches away from _Victoire Weasley_. She’s close enough that he can see every single freckle on her nose. If he reached out, he could brush away the strands of silvery blonde hair that have fallen forwards, could rest his fingers on her cheekbones for a second, could... “Ted?”

He jumps, and his hair flashes red for a second. He sees her try to hide a smile behind her hand, and decides to barrel straight into his strategy. “Right! So! I know you’ve said that you’re not, um, failing, but I thought it might be a good idea to go back to the very beginning, yeah? I mean, if you’ve got a really solid grounding in a subject, it should help you get the hard stuff a bit better, and it’ll also let me see where you’re at. Okay?”

She nods. “Okay, that sounds good. But d’you mind at the end going over the last question of my homework with me?” She pulls out a piece of parchment covered in neat—but indecipherable—writing. “I think I’ve got most of the problems Professor Babbling set, but this last one’s the hardest, and I’m really struggling.”

“Um,” he says, “let’s see if we’ve got time at the end, yeah?”

“Of course,” she replies. “And I do think going back to the beginning could help, actually. I haven’t looked at some of this stuff since third year, so a bit of revision might help.”

“Great!” he says, far too enthusiastically. He’d figured that if he stayed one lesson ahead of her, he’d be able to keep this façade up for...an unspecified amount of time. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead. But he was hoping that he might be able to make it through the first lesson, at least. He had some Fainting Fancies in his bag, maybe if he took one of those just as she got the homework out, he could feign illness and get out of it...

“Okay. So. Numbers! Let’s start by, um, revising those. I found some old flashcards—” Carl had taken pity on him and loaned them to him “—so maybe if I hold them up, you can shout out the right answers to me.”

“Okay,” Victoire says doubtfully. He holds up the first. “Zero.”

“Very good!” he says.

“Easing me in gently, are you?” she teases.

He coughs, holding up another. “Eight.”

“Got it in one.”

“Five.”

“You’re on fire!”

“Six.”

“Ah—no.”

“No?” she says, frowning. “I’m sure that’s...”

He looks at the card again. “No,” he says confidently. “That’s four.”

“No, look,” she says, reaching for her textbook.

“It’s okay, they look quite similar, so it’s easy to get them confused, but if you—oh. Ah. Yes. You are right.”

Victoire smiles in a way that’s meant to be reassuring, but instead makes his stomach do somersaults. “We’ll call it a test to be sure I’m paying attention, yeah?” she says, and winks. _That_ shouldn’t be allowed.

They do a few more numbers, and she—of course—gets them all right. So does he, but he’s sweating so much over making sure that he can’t enjoy the little smiles and encouraging nods she’s giving him, and dammit, this is such a _waste_.

“Okay,” he says, when he sees her eyes drift towards the clock after correctly identifying the rune for ‘three’ for the fifth time. “Let’s move on to...colours?”

“Red,” she says, when he holds up a flashcard.

“Very good.”

“Yellow.”

“Yep.”

“Blue.”

“Correct.”

“No, it’s not,” she says.

He glances down at the card and panics, realising that he has no idea what it is. “Oh...you’re, um, right there. I was just...double-checking.” He tries for a grin, but she’s narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, and he thinks this might have been a bad move.

“No. You’re wrong. This is very definitely the rune for blue,” she says calmly.

“Uh...”

“You have absolutely no idea what’s going on with these, do you?” she asks, gesturing towards the flashcards.

“...No.”

“In fact, you didn’t take Ancient Runes at all, did you? I’ve just remembered. You did Magical Creatures and Arithmancy.”

“No,” he sighs. “No, I didn’t.”

“Well, that’s just great,” Victoire says, slamming shut her textbook. The sound makes him jump. “I _need_ to pass this subject, Ted. The exams are in less than two months. I don’t have time to waste time. I’ll find a proper tutor.” She doesn’t sound angry, just hurt, and he could kick himself.

“Vic, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” she says, stuffing things into her bag. “I get it, you just wanted to make me look stupid, or whatever. What’s this, a bet with James, or my _darling_ little brother?”

“What?! No! Why would you even—” He could kick himself.

“Well, you have. Well done. I’ll see you around.” She pushes her chair aside and strides towards the door.

“Vic, wait!” He yells.

She keeps going, but pauses by the door.

He swallows. His palms are sweating slightly, and his hair, he knows, is flashing through all sorts of colours like it always does when he gets nervous. He hasn’t planned this, but he _has_ to tell her. It’s the only way he can salvage this situation. Merlin.

“Well?”

“Victoire, I’m so sorry,” he says, words tumbling over each other. “I heard you talking about needing a tutor and I thought that...well, you see, I think you’re so beautiful, and I mean, I know you’re great. You’re really great. So great! More than, like, your looks, I mean, but you are so...wow.” She blinks. “We’ve always known each other and been friends and that, and I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but whenever I see you there’s always thirteen thousand other Weasleys around, or all your friends, or bloody James! I mean, that kid gets everywhere.”

He shakes his head, and she does something that might be a laugh.

“Anyway I heard you say you needed a tutor and I thought that this would be a great time for it to be, you know, just the two of us. I wanted to get you alone so that I could say that...well, all this, but probably better, but then I realised that you were expecting tutoring so I couldn’t let you down. So I’ve been trying to learn Ancient Runes over the past three days, but then—”

“Wait, you’ve been trying to learn the entire OWL syllabus of a subject you’ve never taken, on top of all your NEWT work _and_ Head Boy duties?” she asks.

He swallows, and nods.

“You know,” she says, and her voice is level and even and he can’t tell what she might be feeling. “A normal person would’ve just asked me out.”

“I know,” he says in a small voice. “But I’m very _ab_ normal.”

She looks like she’s trying to be cross, but her lips twitch slightly. This is where she’ll say _actually, Ted, I’ve felt the same way for years_ and leap into his arms, where they’ll shyly agree a date and nervously kiss each other, where she’ll get faux-mad and tell him never to do that again and he’ll promise not to as long as she agrees to be with him forevermore and she’ll laugh and say yes...

Or it’s where they’ll get interrupted by Professor Flitwick.

“Ah, good evening Miss Weasley, Mr Lupin,” he nods at both of them. “Some extra revision going on? Excellent, excellent.” He can’t even bring himself to look at Victoire, as Professor Flitwick squeaks on about preparations for the upcoming exams.

Okay. Maybe a _tiny_ glance...

She looks totally calm, her face betraying nothing of what has just happened. Her expression is completely unreadable as she assures Professor Flitwick that yes, she is feeling very confident about her Charms OWL, thank you sir, Ted was just helping her with her Ancient Runes. Quite how she manages to keep a straight face through this, he does not know. His guilt must be written all over his face, because Professor Flitwick gives him a slightly strange look.

Although that could be the fact that his hair is still flashing through all the colours of the rainbow. He really must learn how to get that under control...

“Now, I am very glad to have bumped into you, Mr Lupin, because I have something I must discuss with you,” the Professor continues. He works very hard on not groaning aloud, but something must show on his face because Flitwick immediately assures him that his most recent Charms essay was excellent, and he need not worry about that.

Ted assumes that “I am sorry, Professor Flitwick, but I do not give a flying fuck, if you will pardon the language, about Charms right now and although I like and respect you as a teacher, please kindly bugger off so that I can get back to telling Victoire that I fancy the literal pants right off her,” would not be the best response to that.

“No, we have a small matter regarding a couple of the younger students that the other teachers and myself would like your assistance with, in your capacity as Head Boy,” he explains. Ted looks at him expectantly. Professor Flitwick gives a tiny cough. “It is, ah, of course, strictly confidential...”

Victoire can take a hint. “I was just going!” she says brightly, heading for the door. “Thanks again for the Ancient Runes help, Ted. It’s all a lot clearer now. Good evening, Professor!”

And when Flitwick’s finished discussing with him, ten minutes later, she’s gone.

*

“I mean,” he says, three days later. “‘It’s all a lot clearer now’. We didn’t _do_ any Runes. Is she making fun of me? Or sending me a message? Why would she say that if she clearly hates me and is going to avoid me forevermore? What does it mean when—”

“I don’t know!” Carl’s shout is so loud that a couple of nearby first years jump out of their seats in alarm, and he has to quickly apologise to them before he can whirl back to Ted, no calmer. “I do not know,” he says, teeth clearly gritted, “what Victoire Weasley meant what she said that. I would further venture to suggest that, as you have been analysing her every word, look, and gesture for the past three days and are now no closer to understanding them yourself, that you either give up on her, or go ask her to explain herself.”

“She’s avoiding me,” he says mulishly.

“ _You’re_ avoiding _her_ ,” Carl says. “You’ve not left the Common Room for three days except to go to lessons. You make me check she’s not in the Great Hall every time you go in to eat, and if she is you hide in the kitchens. Professor Longbottom thinks you’re developing an eating disorder.”

“Really?”

“Well, he asked me if you were okay, in Herbology today. I explained that you were and he said ‘in that case, why is he sneaking around the castle like a very bad burglar all the time then?’ and I said that you were in love but had embarrassed yourself in front of the object of your affections—”

“You didn’t!”

“It’s alright, Professor Longbottom says that that sort of thing happened to him all the time but now he’s happily married, so...” Carl shrugged.

“It’s just...it’s so unfair, you know?” he says, after a few moments’ pause.

“Mmm?” replies Carl, absentmindedly chewing the top of his quill as he pours over an essay.

“Yeah. I told her how I feel, and she didn’t, like, laugh in my face. Or run away screaming at the idea of us together. It was all going so well. And then, Professor Flitwick interrupted us and then she ran off and now I have no idea what she thinks.”

“So ask her,” Carl says, putting his quill down. “Go and find her, and ask her. Because I am so goddamn sick of this. You have been going on and on and on and on and _on_ about this for three days and I am _sick_ of it. You can’t avoid her forever. Go and find her and say: _Victoire Weasley, will you go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?_ ”

“It’s not that simple—”

“Isn’t it? You’ve already told her that you like her, so what—”

“Excuse me, Teddy?” A rather shy looking fourth year is standing before them, holding out a piece of parchment.

“Oh, hello!” he smiles. “It’s Amelia, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she says, “I have a note here for you. It’s from Victoire Weasley?” Ted freezes. “She saw me in the library earlier and asked me to give it to you.”  

A beat passes. And another.

“Thanks so much, Amelia,” Carl says, reaching out to take it from her.

“You’re welcome,” she says doubtfully.

Carl slides the note across the table to him, and he eyes it nervously. He recognises her writing at once, and traces his fingers over his name, printed neatly on the envelope. He swallows. “I’ve got to open it, haven’t I?”

“You probably do.”

He tries to ignore the feeling of trepidation in his stomach, the way his hands are shaking so hard he can barely slide his fingers under the flap of the envelope, and especially the thousands of possible scenarios flitting through his mind regarding what the note could possibly say.

Rather anti-climatically, he manages to drop the parchment on the floor as soon as it’s out of the envelope, and has to scrabble around for it before unfolding it. He’s closed his eyes just before doing so, then opens them to see—

“Hah!” Carl lets out a burst of laughter when Ted turns it around to show him, his own expression doleful. “I’m sorry,” he says, not sounding it at all. “Well, at least she’s got a sense of humour.”

“What does it say?” he asks.

Carl raises an eyebrow. “You really want me to tell you?”

Ted looks at the message again. “No,” he says decisively. “No, you’re right. I’m going to go to the library and translate it myself.”

Carl smiles. “Don’t take too long. Dinner’s in an hour...”

*

He misses dinner.

Carl takes pity on him and sneaks a sandwich into the library, which he manages to eat undetected by Madam Pince as he pours over the short message Victoire’s sent him, encrypted in Ancient Runes. At ten, when the librarian finally kicks him out, he’s managed to translate the first two words of it: ‘I think’.

He takes what feels like three-quarters of the books on Ancient Runes back up to the Common Room with him; although he could ask Carl, or one of his many other friends who’ve taken the subject, to translate for him, he doesn’t want to. It feels like cheating, somehow, even when midnight rolls around and he’s still only managed to translate the next two words: ‘you’ and ‘are’.

He stretches, watching the last few people in the Common Room finish up their homework and head to bed, all looking exhausted. He’s still wide awake, though, determined not to sleep until he can translate what Victoire thinks of him. He hopes this won’t take three weeks...

*

“Huh? Wassamatter?” Carl rubs his eyes sleepily, sitting up. “Ted?”

“I need you to help me,” he says. “Does this say what I think it says?” He thrusts Victoire’s note at him.

Carl glances at his watch. “Ted, it’s a quarter to four!”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” he replies, and almost manages to sound it. “I’ll buy you a bottle of Firewhiskey, but please. Tell me. Am I correct?”

Carl realises that it will be quicker to just do as he asks than argue, so he takes a quick glance, using the light of Ted’s wand to read the note. “Yes. All correct. Can I go to sleep now?”

“Of course. Thanks, mate!” Ted says, climbing onto his own bed. He draws the curtains around it, pauses for a moment, then jumps on top of it, silently dancing around in glee. Underneath Victoire’s message, he’s scrawled his own painstakingly worked out translation:

_I think you are pretty great, too. Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?_

He sits down, then takes out a piece of parchment from the pile on top of his trunk. Summoning a quill, he carefully transcribes one single, well-practised Rune in response.

*

He manages a couple of hours sleep, but lingers in the dorms whilst Carl and the other boys go down to breakfast. Once he’s got his uniform on, he goes into the bathroom and stands in front of the full length mirror. His hair is his trademark turquoise, his eyes a deep dark brown, but when he closes and reopens them, it’s his natural body staring back at him. His hair is light brown, and in need of a trim and his eyes are hazel, and the few freckles he has naturally have popped back into view. People tell him he looks a bit like his father, and Gran says he has a lot of his Grandad’s features including his sticky-out ears, which he normally Morphs, so he’s less self-conscious about them. Today, however, he lets them stick out, and slips down to the Great Hall unnoticed, a note with Victoire’s name on the front in his pocket.

As he passes the table where Victoire is sat with a group of friends, he lets the note fall next to the elbow of the girl three chairs to her left (thanks, Uncle George’s slight-of-hand lessons) and by the time he’s taken a seat at the table directly opposite, she’s spotted it. “Oh, Vic, there’s something here for you,” she calls, and Ted watches the parchment get passed from hand to hand.  

“Thanks, Claire,” calls Victoire, but she doesn’t look at the piece of parchment, continuing her conversation with someone on the right. Ted picks up a discarded _Daily Prophet_ and peers at her over the top of it, willing her to read it.

She turns to it eventually, but her hair falls over her shoulders, hiding her face from view, and he can’t tell what she’s thinking as she reads it. Until—

“Why has someone sent you a note with ‘yes’ written on it in Runes?” Claire asks, peering over her shoulder.

“Because...” he hears Victoire reply, and then she’s scanning the room until her eyes land on his. “Be right back!” she says, sliding off her seat.

“Hello,” she says, slipping into the empty chair next to him.

“Hi,” he replies. His stomach somersaults.

“You learned Ancient Runes, then?” she asks, crossing her legs.

He tries not to stare, and she looks smug. “Nope. Spent nine hours last night with most of the Ancient Runes section of the library trying to decipher your message.”

“Oh,” she says, sounding slightly disappointed. “That’s...”

“Impressive?” he asks hopefully.

“Disappointing,” she replies. “I’ll need to find someone else to tutor me in the subject.”

“Oh.”

“Still up for taking me to Hogsmeade, though?”

He matches her grin. “Always.”

“Good,” she says, recrossing her legs in the other direction. “Meet me at ten in the Entrance Hall on Saturday. Don’t be late!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies.

“Good,” she says again. And then she leans forward and, oh-so-quickly, kisses him full on the lips. It’s over almost before it’s begun, and then she hops up again. “Gotta go. Lesson first period.”

“Ancient Runes?” he asks, because it does seem to be the theme.

She shakes her head. “Double Potions,” she says, pulling a face. “It’s the pits.”

He grins. “Need a tutor?”

“I’d rather you just took me to the Three Broomsticks,” she says.

“Done.”


End file.
